Good Sub: Part I

B looked at the clock, the tiny multicolored brackets flashed with vigor, it was her alarm reminding her that Daddy would be home in thirty minutes. Her nipples wet, cold and hard peered from the clammy water. She dreaded getting out of the bath. She loved to soak in hot water seasoned with mint and lavender scented Epson salts- just as Daddy had taught her to do. He stressed the importance of self-care to B, “how can I expect you to take care of my needs if you don’t know how to take care of your own,” he insisted.

B couldn’t refute, it took a lot of hard work to please Daddy. Today alone she had already shined 4 pair of boots, cleaned his chaps and vests, untangled floggers, set up the play room:
1. candles lit,
2. Daddy’s toy chest unlocked.
3. lube
4. gloves
5. First Aid kit
6. water and snacks
7. music set at the appropriate level

She stepped out the tub and checked her cunt in the mirror and admired her recently trimmed pubic hairs; a fine layer. Not too fine nothing too, prepubescent for Daddy. He liked his little girls to look grown. She trimmed herself right over the trashcan her brown shavings flaked right on top of the white crumpled tissues, in plain sight for Daddy to see, just a little something for the pig in him. Twenty minutes and counting, B needed to hurry. Knowing Daddy, he had packed his brief case, grabbed his coat, walked out of his office, locked the door, jiggled it one, two, three times to make sure it was locked, wished his Program Assistant a good afternoon, grabbed his sunglasses out of his left breast pocket and skipped out of the office at five on the dot.

Her Daddy, so handsome so ritualistic she loved his discipline. Daddy’s rules, everywhere she turned. The bed always nice and tidy, slippers peaking out from under the bed, floors vacuumed every third day, boots never scuffed, his favorite cock along with his other “pieces” stored in the third drawer of his dresser. Always stored ribbed red condoms for his brown cock, the one he liked to fuck her with the most, and the underwear he bought her always crotch-less if she was going to wear any at all. B was rewarded, deeply, sinfully painfully every time she followed Daddy’s rules. Ssss fuck! Time was ticking and she was so wet from daydreaming, pussy throbbing she took a deep breath, trying to control her cunt’ s pounding. Cunt pounding! Cunt pounding! Cunt pounding. Seventeen minutes to get ready and counting! She exhaled, and read over her list of tasks, she had a few yet to complete.

I was flying

I dreamt that I was flying on a magic carpet. A nice thick one, with burgundy threads and of course laced with gold. Golden tassels flowing in the wind charmed like snakes. A carpet like the one Aladdin used to reach Jasmine’s lair and shit…but BIGGER! Big enough to cover the whole of my floor, from the living room to the back door. I wasn’t afraid- it was too big to drop me plus the force of the gravity pressed me down like thumbs into the carpet’s fiber. 100, 300, 600 thread counts and counting as it went up. Higher and higher it went till my lips, my entire face went numb then on fire. My skin felt peeled from the chill of the night. I felt a shrill building up inside. I couldn’t release the scream,Edward Munch, I was about to burst from the silence…suicide. That’s where shit got out of control, more and more feet I climbed but my guts they never left the floor. The moon was coming at me! Looking fuller than a workaholic’s agenda and blinding like Friday Night Lights. Even through closed lids I could see Orion’s belt on the left, Big dipping on the right. Your eyes, your eyes appeared in the flashes behind my lids all cinematic and shit, like constellations blinking at me – open, shut, open, longer shut…mores code for “it’s ok, let go”. There went the flood gates and tears streamed down my face, warm tears turned to ice-cubes, I was so close to fading out close to being a twinkle in your eye. But I let go, the carpet felt solid, cold cobblestones pressed against my back, solid, taking me back. Solid (due Black Power fist)
Pressing my back into her tendrils; the Woman who looks like a tree, taking me back pulling me into the forest of colors. I fell into greens and browns and she pulled me in with her curled branches, golden smooth like sand, wrapped around my legs, chest, hands. Around my legs, chest, hands turning me into a cocoon. I can’t breath. Like in my others pieces I can’t breath. Am I fixated with asphyxiation or just with words that have the letter x. Excuse me! I got wrapped up in my thoughts and nothing but, that’s what it is! I lose my self in the ideas and not focus on the feeling. Deep inside, the silence it’s there like a cocoon wrapped tight…let it expand like a lung.
I felt a thick drop flick against my cheek, then this sent crawled up my nose stinging my sinuses, I was dazed out of my sleep. Opening my eyes felt like peeling back scabs, as if I were awakening from my deepest sleep. It felt like forever for my eyes to adjust cause I blinked and blinked turned to my left saw black, turned to my right and still more black. I blinked, and blinked my eyes watered, the black turned shiny, my tears cleared and I saw my reflection in patent leather- a boot pressed to my neck, the heel Ahhhh! pinched my skin. I tried to straighten my neck out but the other boot dug into me. Ahhhhhh! My neck clamped between strong legs? It was…worth it. I knew to stay put, I stay put, won’t resist. I saw her face appear before me, “Mistress? How did you get here? I wondered not knowing exactly where here was.
She looked either proud or drunk or just drunk with pride. Hands on her hips she bent forward, snickered at me, standing over me with no panties and wet pussy. Or had she showered me again, she stood above me dripping all over my face, she snickered at me and I heard her say,
“Ground control to Major Tom”
“What?” I replied.
“Ground control to Major Tom” she repeated.
“Huh? What are you saying”
“I said, I like you on the ground, makes my clit hard with control,” she repeated shaking her head.
“I’m happy that I can please Mistress,” I said all raspy. My neck was clamped down as was the rest of my body. A bodice made from cotton clothesline around my neck, chest, hands, across my neck, chest, arms behind my back.
“ My pretty-boi-slave you really went deep this time huh?”
“Mistress anyone can suck a dick anyone can suck a pussy but Mistress blows my mind.”
“I like that. You were on some trip, and to think only you will know what that experience was like”
“I want to make Mistress happy, take all that she gives me.”
“Ah slave you do make me happy, so happy, and for that…”
Suddenly I catch whiff of that sent, kicked my sinuses like wasabi as her pussy got closer to my face, my face got wetter with her pussy-juice-drops her and from my sweat.
“For being such a good slave you get to give me an ass massage” she said as she plants her pussy on my shoulder and proceeded to unravel me.
I get a sudden pain on my sides, down my arms as my skin comes to back to live. That along with the familiar feeling of the onset of blue balls. It hurt, her getting my clit all engorged both from the ropes and her teasing cunt. But that’s why they call it discipline! Cause normally I’m all Pavlov’s Theory over fine wet pussy…but it’s not about me, and at the same time it is. I want to continue growing and being true with the things I wanna experience. And I wanna experience rubbing a woman’s ass, because that’s exactly what she wants me to do, or maybe she wants me to make her some lunch, for me to be her surface where she digs her knife, pink row after pink row on my skin, or write her row after row of prose and level after level of recording us through poetry. Yes, yes, yes and yes. I fail to see the negative in all this. She finished untying me, I floundered around with my numb limbs trying to get up to eagerly.
“You stay there,” she pushed me back down with a single finger to my forehead. “Let the rest of your body come to. I will go upstairs and get myself ready. Come up when you’re good and ready. (She grabbed my chin and looked straight into my eyes. “I need for your arms to be VERY awake” then walked away.
“(moaning in painful ecstasy) Yes Mistress”
“Slave!” she screamed from mid-stairs.
“Mistress?”
“I mean it. My ass really needs to get worked, you’ll be pressing, HARD!”
“Of course Mistress, I aim to please. I know how much Mistress enjoys getting her ass worked.”
No response just the fade away clacking of her heels. I heard her door slam shut. I laid there letting the doughiness of my muscles melt away loving the idea of digging into her doughiness. From sub-space to cloud 9 and to think that I had already been drifting in outer space.

It's B-D-S-M Bitch!

It’s B-D-S-M!
Bitch!
Pick a letter
Any letter
I chose M.
Mine is M
Mamamela mas
Mami mas!
Ohhhmmm
mastica mis mecos
munch on my meet curtains
mmmmMistress
muñequita
metete mas
M
M
M
Envuelveme mas
Mas-oquista.
Not a typical slave
but definitely a masochist
a kinky mother fucker
Shit-no-I-ain’t-vanilla!
Not into humiliation either.
You know, being put down?
Like a convertible I’ve had that covered for years
Now trying to ride topless
Which doesn’t make sense if I’m trying to get topped.
But to put it simpl\y Masochist
I like it rough
Get tough on my skin.
Go crazy on my back
But I gotta pull back,
realize I don’t
call the shots
You Mistress are the one
that plots the scene.

Leather, leather all the time
Mistress wants me in it.
I will
get all up in it
for her.
I will
her pretty-boi-slave.
Are you kidding!
She growls at me when
I wear it.
I wish one day
She’ll bite me hard
on my back,
really her back
her canvas
creating colors of
crimson and blues.
Mouth on canvas?
She’s a canvivore.
Not out for the blood
out for the love
of the game
The fame?
The love.
Out smarting
out creating
to inspire.

Wish I could cut the wire
don’t want to be a liar
don’t want to be an outlier
of this outlying community
Such a fucken apprentice!
Gonna get myself fired.
Just cut to the Chase
I’m talking banks
As in secure and insured.
trying to be secure with myself
do me, and feel assured…
reassured that I’m doing the right things.

I write things
cause I have a bad memory
I write things
down to share the memories
stir those memories
like I stir this alphabet soup
B-D-S-M
Bitch!
Pick a letter any letter.
M
M
M
Masters in Fine Arts
Mastering my heart
Mastering myself.
Don’t want to be famous.
Don’t need to be a billionaire
to know I’m fucken bad.
All I need is oceans of ideas
keep spoiling me
spilling over me
so I can spit ideas.
Ridding someone’s coattails
resting on my laurels
not part of my vocabulary,
not down with that lingo.

Everybody deserves a bomb orgasm
in their life.
That’s what I get-
Life.
From doing what I do.
You know what I do.
That thing that does that thing to you
makes you gag like a big dick.
My malicious delight.
Grant me immunity
from writer’s block
I’ll take that shot, or pill
I will sacrifice
pay the price- go for broke
for endless birth.
Don’t think that we pros don’t create
Life.

It’s B-D-S-M!
Bitch!
Pick a letter
any letter.
I chose
M.

I right you Mistress

She walks into the green room
Gives hugs all around then
like a sub who’s had enough collapses
in my arms.
My Mistress,
I can’t touch without permission
yet I took in her scent
pressed her into me,
her hot breaths erasing
anxiety, insecurity that stirred in me.
It was our night
our audience awaited
to see our play unfold
Yes leather, yes dominance, yes submission
and pain
she rummaged through her suitcase of accouterments
looking for that single tail, whip or knife to
tenderize my back with.
We’ve done this dance before
in private and on stage
underneath
the heat of the lights and collective silence of the audience
a deeper intimacy goes unnoticed.
Two pros engaged in creative exchange.
Yes play, but definitely procreating
without reservations
artistic instincts on high
as we set out to inspire
give you something to Tweet about.
She felt my vibe
she had to the way I did hers
the audience, numbed by our chemistry, did too.
Each come up to us one by one, smiles wider than
the black smile on Mistress’ face, eyes dilated
from witnessing artistic souls colliding on stage.

Mistresses come and go
bruises disappear
brandings fade
artistic exchange remains in my core.
She’s the first artist I’ve mixed intimacies with.
I am her first too,
first butch
first pretty boi, first papi
and want nothing more than to
make her smile and call me love
even if she puts me in a corner
silent, newbie voyeur watching
women’s bodies slither over
across each other,
turning the Moroccan
room upside down
to exchange kisses
caresses and finger fucks.
Lips on tits, asses and pussies
my lips dry from heavy breathing
as all I can do is watch and lust.
Shit I don’t give a fuck, put that plump ass on my head,
fuck her brains out on top of me,
ride that bitch hard, grind in my face
tie her to my waist as she sucks on my titties.
Ordered us to manhandle you, more fingers than you can count
crawling over you
till you put us to bed.

You are happy, pleased with the performance
pleased with our performance.
You remember, said so yourself…perfect
Like my ass in those leather pants
like your bondaged breasts
like your ass grinding on my cock
the one you grab so freely
making sure that like your
Slave, it’s at attention
for you.

You wanted me to write you a poem
so I right you Mistress
cause this will be the third…
Carve a cross
Across my chest
Or hit me
hit me back to heaven
through ceremonial play
I’ve discovered
the paint in the dark
the touch all that you eat
the blow beautiful notes side of you.
Ain’t no secret that I think you’re hot
I enjoyed just massaging you
unloosening the knots in your calves
warming up your ovaries,
knotting my fingers around your ass
pulling your toes
being spread over you
getting wetter
as imagined what it would feel
to fuck you
to burry my face in between your ass cheeks
and feast on it.
You said it best
“I love our relationship”
you inspire me
to be creative
to be nice
to be positive and loving
to be sensual and sexual